Enemy
by InsertEpicPenNameHere
Summary: DeiSaku. Had time and circumstance been different, they could have been together. But they satisfied themselves with a fleeting moment of bliss and an eternal ocean of regret.


**Standard disclaimer applies.**

The sky darkened as the invasion raged on; carefree blue bled into flushed skin pink and crimsons on a pale orange canvas. The colours splattered on the well trodden streets of Konoha. Beaten corpses falling down like leaves, more tormented souls liberated from the chains of their lives. Comrade's tears, medics rushing out in an unclear maelstrom of macabre sights that made the innocent cower. A tumult of emotions seeping through, violent passion expressed in every deadly dance that seemed to be infinite. Surreal.

Even the sky had been bloodstained. Unfortunate really. The man had liked it blue although he supposed the colour didn't exactly reflect the atmosphere. The brutal atmosphere of war. He likened it to a vicious, relentless tornado plunging the world into chaos and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. A confused frenzy, an adrenaline rush which meant nothing. For, in warfare, reason was forgotten and nothing existed except the enemy before one.

The aftermath was like ashes from a bonfire, hearts blackened for eternity as all the heat receded. Rationality returned then, but all that was left to examine were the bitter remnants of an orgy of destruction. Truly, a tragedy.

Every man would have his day to die and it seemed for many that this was it. Still, at least some died honourably.

Although it would greatly depend on one's perception of 'honour'. Was sacrificing others to save your own honourable? Was your village worth any more than the others?

Every single one fighting had someone who cared for them, someone who wanted them to return home safely. For every life saved, for every shinobi crowned a 'hero', many lives were cruelly ripped away. Was that truly the named honour?

There was no good or bad in the game of war.

After all, the world was only an extremely intricate clay sculpture, just like once of the man's own, that was just waiting to explode. And explode it did, into a zealous furore that would self destruct.

Now, he had his own duty to do for _his_ side. A side which he had no desire to be part of.

Haruno Sakura. A young petite kunoichi, the same one that took his partner down a year or so ago with only a little assistance. Leader wanted her. She had potential. She had to live.

Of course the task had to fall upon him to find her and ensure her safety. So there he was, soaring through the skies on his clay bird, eyes scanning over for any sign of her. People screaming at the sight of him mildly amused him at the moment. Really, he wasn't that heartless or powerful in comparison to other Akatsuki members.

He was Deidara. Not a killer, an artist. His art degraded to a mere _tool _to use at pleasure. But thus was the life of a shinobi. All tools, just pawns in something much larger.

Finally he saw a sight of a pink headed body, lying still on the ground. His eyes widened marginally, she better not be dead yet.

Swooping down easily for a closer look, he was relieved to discover that she was not dead only unconscious due to chakra depletion.

More gently than he could have done, Deidara lifted her up in his muscular arms and placed her onto the back of his bird, taking care not to shake her – she appeared so frangible.

The blonde took off, heading to a secure location. Fortune seemed to be on the young kunoichi's side. To still be living after passing out so excruciatingly near a battlefield… was near impossible. Any person could have killed her when she was so completely defenceless.

Disgusting. Sickening self mutilation of what was made to be beautiful was what he saw. The war was a knife, cutting through the flesh, till life bled out. And he remembered what caused it. _Who_ deliberately caused it for their own ends. And he was ashamed.

Perhaps it was the children screaming in denial over the bodies of their parents or the stench of corpses that many people didn't even know of yet. Perhaps it was because, right behind him, was someone who he still viewed as naïve and innocent. Someone who _saved_ lives. Someone who wouldn't be sitting back and doing nothing when she saw all the suffering. Or perhaps his newfound guilt came from the fact that from the sky… he could see everything. All the bloodshed due to the Akatsuki.

It didn't matter why; all he knew was that his conscience was killing him.

At long last, he located a place that he deemed safe enough for the two of them to recuperate. Disembarking from his clay bird, he lifted the female up and carefully set her on the ground. He chose not to detonate the bird – the noise would attract unwanted attention.

Now more relaxed, he took the liberty of studying her further. She had grown since the small glimpse he had had of her after Sasori's death. Her features were now womanly, the last vestiges of childish roundness no longer there to search for. There were also more scars. He found himself wondering how she got them. Bright pink hair was still choppy and unruly, only held back by her Konoha headband that was in tatters. Bags under her eyes showed her exhaustion and she was unhealthily pale. Her hands, though, were what fascinated him the most. Her pale palms displayed many diminutive scratches and her skin looked slightly more worn due to the excessive chakra usage. Slender digits had probably examined so many patients with concern. The hands of a healer, he thought.

After a while she awoke, groggily rubbing her eyes before the situation registered in her mind. Had he been in a different circumstance, he would have openly admitted that it was sort of cute. Instead his deep male chuckle reverberated throughout the small area.

Sakura, clearly still drained, didn't even notice his presence. Immediately she scrambled up and was all set to return to combat zone where she was needed for healing people.

Effortlessly, Deidara grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him yet maintaining a reasonable proximity. "Where do you think you're going pinky, un?" he spoke with an almost teasing growl.

She turned to face him with a fiery glower. "Definitely not where you are," she replied bitingly then muttered a little more belligerently "You're going to rot in hell, hopefully."

She desperately tried to ignore the fact that with that mischievous glint in his azure eyes and the somewhat playful tone of his voice was so similar to Naruto.

"Is this how you treat your saviour?" he goaded her on, enjoying her rage.

She spat at him. "I would have rather died."

And for some reason, her hatred hurt him. He wanted to shout, scream, and yell at her that she was wrong. Did she think that he was willingly a part of all this… all this atrocity?

He glared at her, insulted "Watch what you say pinky, un. I could kill you,"

"Then why don't you?" she taunted responding to anger with even more.

At that moment, he decided he liked her. For not cowering away in fear like anyone else would have done. For all the fire in her eyes that burned, her piercing glare that incinerated him. The fire brightened her eyes, and they shone oh so intensely like sunlight in the midst of midnight. He blurted out his answer before thinking "Maybe because I like you, un,"

"So not only a monster, a liar too," Evidently she didn't believe him. Her accusatory, self righteous tone was aggravating him.

"Then what's the truth?" he retorted, "That Konoha is right and everyone else is wrong? Do you even know me? Do you even know what the Akatsuki's plans are?"

"_You_ turned Cloud, Mist and Stone against us, _you _started the war. Whatever your damn plans are, do you think they justify this? Everyone is dying because of you, not just us"

"So how does Konoha justify itself then un?" he went on furiously, "You make your livelihood out of killing too, don't you? You're just like me."

And what could she say to that?

"Cat got your tongue?" he mocked cruelly, uncaring of anything.

She gazed at him helplessly for a moment. "You're right." she whispered, hating to admit it.

He smirked in triumph.

But then she continued "Everyone's got something, someone precious to them. And Konoha is precious to me. If I have to kill to protect it, I will," her voice grew stronger with conviction "No matter how wrong it is, I will do anything to protect my precious people. And I am sure everyone fighting here would do the same."

He thought it right to crack a smile then. A small joy in his chest arose at her passion, and honesty. "You're different pinky un."

For a moment, they said nothing, only understood. They were on different sides but were the same people. They were both humans. In these significant, almost infinite minutes, no longer did Konoha and Akatsuki exist. Only two individuals did, Deidara and Sakura who had silently stolen away from the brutal world.

After a while she spoke up "I have a name you know and it's not pinky,"

"Haruno Sakura un," he grinned roguishly "I prefer pinky."

And for some reason, she allowed her stomach to do somersaults at his grin, condoned the blush crawling on her cheeks and what could she do about it? She argued that it was fraternising with the enemy but was that so wrong? He was more human than enemy. More artist than shinobi. More Deidara than Akatsuki. So she let herself get lost in the fleeting moment, savour a fading fragment of bliss – and her mind warned her not to, told her it would only hurt her so much more –. But she ignored the warnings and snapped back "Hey!"

"You can't do anything about it," he said, his teasing smirk still gracing his face "Pinky,"

She punched the ground in her frustration. "Damn you," she hissed in annoyance, her candy pink hair flying upwards slightly due to the wind. But there was no detestation in her words because even when her stare would lower down to his Akatsuki cloak, all she could see was his sun kissed face so finely sculpted, his thick honey blonde hair, his blue eyes always amused at her reactions, his lips forever tilted upwards into a boyish grin. She didn't know when and how but at some point during their encounter he became just an ordinary man. Just Deidara.

"You're like one of my clay birds un," Was that a kind of flattery or mockery? "You blow up whenever I want you to."

As if to prove his point, he made a small bird and uttered 'Katsu'.

A crater similar to the one created from her punch formed.

She snorted. "Very funny,"

He looked up at her expectantly. "Katsu,"

"Oy! Stop irritating me!" she exclaimed in infuriation. Flushing, she realised her mistake.

Point proven. Deidara once more smirked with smug superiority.

Once again, Sakura punched the ground, this time with more force.

"Your style isn't artistic at all un," he protested at her technique of relieving annoyance.

Deciding it was time to get her own back at him, she looked up at him and smiled sweetly "Of course, I'm sure if we could resurrect Sasori, he'd show me how to do it better."

He growled at her "Careful pinky,"

"Or you'll do what?" she raised her elegant eyebrows high "Kill me?"

He leaped up in the air with almost feline grace and arrived in front of her.

And he was so close, so close that she could feel his warm breath against her skin, breath of an enemy, breath she was supposed to take but never could. She could feel the heat rising at the intimate nearness.

"Maybe," he answered and he could feel that she was getting flustered. Served her right for implying Sasori's art was better than his. He deliberately tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear and felt her pulse quicken at the action.

"You do realise I'm in the perfect position to knee you where the sun doesn't shine,"

"You wouldn't pinky un." He was so assured that he didn't even move away as a precaution.

But she did do exactly that.

Landing in one of the three craters that had been formed he let out an "Ouch!"

Her eyes glittered with sadistic pleasure and victory.

He twitched dangerously. "Congratulations, you are the first and last person to do that to me and get out alive un."

"I'm honoured, would that still apply if I did it a second time?" By now she couldn't deny the truth. She liked him. She enjoyed his company, his pride, his joking banter. Had they been in a different circumstance, she would have crushed on him, blush at his every word, giggle with her friends about him. Had they not been enemies. But now the only thing in her stomach was the twinge of remorse at what could have been but never was.

The blonde artist got up slowly. "You know for a medic, you sure have violent tendencies."

It was the wrong thing to say. Medic. A medic had duties, duties that she couldn't abandon. People were dying and she was just standing there. Standing there before a man she couldn't bring herself to loathe. She gazed at his face one last time, torn and desperate. In one brief instant she permitted herself to dream, dream about the life _they_ could have led. Led together. Her voice trembling she spoke barely above a whisper "I have to go,"

And Deidara just stared at her face, the face begging him not make it harder for her. The face which had so many expressions, so…so _artistic _yet none as tragic as this one. He silently wished that she would never look so unsure, so uncertain again and this face would only be known to him. He wished that she would smile forever. And he didn't know what to do because he didn't want her to leave him.

Jade eyes beseeched him to say something, anything, to make her feel like she wasn't making a mistake.

"It doesn't have to be this way," he murmured.

"What other way could it be?" she asked tearfully, yet couldn't stop a transient hope flying through her, leaving her feeling even more empty.

"We could run," he replied already knowing it was futile. It was a childish fancy at best, thousands of pipe dreams away from reality. But he couldn't help but entertain thoughts of them together, somewhere, anywhere; peaceful and content.

She gave a teary laugh and the temptation was just so strong and it was so easy to say yes but then the agonised cries of the fallen echoed in her head. "How…How could I still call myself a healer when… when I just let them all die?"

But to be selfish was so enticing and oh how she desperately desired to be so.

He ran up to her then and embraced her tightly. Brokenly, he whispered "Do your duty,"

Except he didn't release her. She was so warm, so frangible in his arms and he felt so hopeless and pathetic because he just couldn't let go. Perhaps he felt his humanity return to him, and he was holding onto her like a lifeline.

Her eyes widened as she realised what he was doing. Once again she ignored her mind's warning that she'd only miss him more and uncertainly wrapped her arms around him.

So much compounded emotion flooded through him. She was returning the gesture. She didn't despise him. And she made it all the more harder for him to let her go.

'_Let this be my final mistake'_ He gently cupped her chin, hesitantly wiping away the tears, before lowering his head to close the distance between their lips.

And with thoughts mirroring his own, Sakura kissed him back with all the urgency he felt, tears still slipping down her cheeks.

As if snapping out of a trance, he pulled back to see the heartbreakingly confused expression back on the woman in front of him. "W-why?" she began, almost in reverence. And she could still feel his lips on hers so wonderfully warm and mellow.

"Leave," he breathed harshly, "Leave now or I can't guarantee I'll let you,"

She didn't doubt that he meant it. So, still shaking, she turned away and began walking, not daring to look back lest her weak resolve slip away just like those small moments of bliss did.

Walking, walking away from heaven that never happened. Away from Deidara, the man she could have loved.


End file.
